


Help I'm Alive

by Sammichplease



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Sad, Valentine's Day, alcoholic!Dean, alternative universe, coffee shop AU, possible suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammichplease/pseuds/Sammichplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The wind stirred around him, ruffling his already “sexed” hair, as Dean would call it. He threw his legs over the railing and sat, hunched over fifteen floors of city life below him."</p>
<p>Castiel's husband has passed, and he recollects their life together before making a decision between life and death.(Heavily edited)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thanks For The Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I originally made this on Valentine's Day (which I was so totally not alone and eating Haagen Dazs for) Begins sad, goes through sad, ends happy!

The icy metal of the picture frame stung Castiel’s trembling fingers. He bit back tears at the sight before him and, instead of crying, planted a warm smile on his lips as his eyes roamed the image with a strong sense of admiration. 

He stood in his apartment, as dark and dead as he’d felt when Dean had passed.

Maybe it was his smile that had kept their home lit.

The city below him continued to flourish despite the grim occurrence; car horns and intermixing street music could be heard through the open balcony door as Cas clutched the wedding photo like a child with a broken toy; unable to fix it, only cradle it with apologetic fingers and hope for the toy to fix itself.

Cas wondered what went wrong, why bad things happened to good people. They must have been sinners in past lives, for their relationship was nothing short of true love.

Broken fragments of memories showered Castiel, leaving him in a state of wistful longing. 

***

One tranquil evening in Dean’s warm apartment, they sat on his worn red couch as the small T.V. lit up the room and the faint light shadowed Dean's face perfectly. Cas wrapped his arms around him and curved himself so the front of his body slotted perfectly with Dean’s side and ravished the scent of his musky leather jacket. They had decided to watch Star Wars that night, when Cas had sheepishly admitted to never have seen any of the movies. They were standing just inside the door frame, Cas not sure whether to or not to enter Dean’s home.

_“What?! You have never seen any of the Star Wars movies?”_

 _“They never seemed to be of any import at the time...”_

 _

“Star Wars is the most ‘movie-of-import’ or whatever you just said- of all time! You are not leaving this apartment until you have at least seen the first one.”

_

That night, while Cas listened to the steady beating of Dean’s heart and watched the movie, he had decided this was where he wanted to stay for all of eternity, wrapped in his arms and doused with the blissful aroma of Dean, warmth, and comfort.

\--

About three months after they had been together, they took a stroll down the street. The moment seemed insignificant at the time. It was early December and their coated shoulders bumped together as they walked and chatted about simple things such as to what they were going to do the next day, and Dean joked, like he always did.

His true laugh sounded like it was being pulled from his very core and out in quick spurts of pure joy. His cries were shameless in their volume, and his head tilted back with eyes tightly shut from the hilarity of whatever he was laughing about. Cas has forgotten what the cause of their laughter was. All he needed to remember was how warm his hand felt that bitter-cold day when Dean entwined his gloved fingers with his own. How their breath clouded like sweet smoke in the crisp cold air and how the stony edge to Dean’s voice had lifted faultlessly higher as his voice rang with laughter.

\--

They had been going through financial problems with the apartment during their last summer together. Cas woke up for no apparent reason one morning while it was still dark and decided not to disturb Dean’s serene slumber. Cas sat against the barred railing of their balcony and watched drunken tourists and college students amble in and out of bars, stumbling down roads in a foggy attempt to get home, and pass out by the streets as the night faded. Cas felt a warm blanket over his shoulders and looked to see Dean, with ruffled hair and half-open eyes, trying not to be grumpy for waking up at this ungodly hour. Dean rested his chin over Cas’ shoulder and watched the sun rise and the city come to life again as he shared Cas’ thoughtless troubles. They sat and watched the traffic slowly thicken and the car horns grow deafening as men and women make their way to their workplaces, and the city was swept into a golden luster.

\--

Cas’ favorite and final memory of Dean was an early morning in his (at that point, their) apartment. He had never been a morning person, but he was excited that day. That day, Dean was going to see Bobby, an old family friend, for the first time in the last five years. 

Castiel watched with hooded eyes and a sleepy smile gracing his face as warm black coffee ran down his throat. The sun had just risen; the sky was flushed pink melting into a soft yellow, marking a new day. Weak rays of light had landed on a lively Dean, standing at the stove, rambling on about how Bobby had practically raised him and his brother, and how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other. He lifted his spatula in Cas’ direction on occasion as he spoke, craning his neck to meet his eyes with a childlike smile on his face, before turning back to the eggs he was attempting to cook. His wrist flicked the spatula as he kept nudging the eggs with an impatient hand, hurrying them to cook faster.

The only reason Cas still sat at the plastic dining table, listening to Dean instead of going back to sleep was because Dean wore a “Kiss the Cook” apron over his usual tee shirt and pajama shorts to make Cas laugh and get up for him, plus Cas couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from the lovely sight of Dean silouhetted in the sun's ravishing glow.

\--


	2. Look Right Through Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A childhood, a flower, and a kiss

Cas had always thought that they’d be together forever, as cliché as it sounds. Maybe that’s how all young couples felt. 

Maybe if Dean had died two years after the wedding instead of one, he would’ve felt different.

Although, he sincerely doubted that. Dean was his only friend, and even if he could find another, Castiel knew he couldn't love anyone else as he had once loved Dean. He had been given a taste of genuine intimacy, and after a lifetime of seclusion, it was paradise. As a child, Cas was alone. Never loathed or ill-treated, only solitary. A born introvert.

Society was indifferent to the child, sitting alone, quietly eating a school lunch with his thoughts amongst his grade school peers. The world remained ignorant of the strung-out teenager, desperate for knowledge and neglected the luxury of adoration. Even college professors paid no mind to the hushed and attentive recluse who dreamed of graduating med-school and making a living, using money in place of an emotional bond. Castiel lived in privacy, merely observing life through a metaphorical window, striving to avoid inevitable naivety. No one so much as paid him a glance, until Dean showed up.

Castiel set the wedding photo back down and slowly moved around the apartment, grazing cold fingers over the old furniture and comical nick-nacks they’d purchased together as an overwhelming wave of nostalgia washed over him. 

His stride brought him to their plastic dining table where a dead flower drooped over a cup of water. The last gift Dean had ever given him. Cas’ favorite flower.

***

He couldn't afford a bouquet, but Cas didn't care. That day would've been special even if Dean had brought in the bills as a gift.

_“A bouquet is a waste of flowers, anyway. Don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard.”_

He explained humorously after a mock-gentleman’s bow and bestowing the plain flower to Cas with a lifted hand as if the flower was a priceless treasure.

He had come home after work, about thirty minutes after Cas. He rarely came home late.

In his hand he held a pale, slightly-withered buttercup. Cas told Dean, what seems eons ago, that he loved the simplicity and modesty of the bud, to which Dean laughed and spoke of cars being much more interesting and masculine than flowers, blushing about not wanting any _“chick flick moments”_.

Cas planted a tender kiss on Dean’s lips after he accepted the buttercup. He wished now he could go back in time for if he had known that it would be Dean’s last Valentine’s Day, he would’ve clung to him for as long as he could as if their embrace couldn’t be torn apart by death itself.


	3. To The Spirit In The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky, song, flashback

Clutching the dead buttercup now, Castiel stepped to the balcony with glazed eyes and a stony expression. He swept his gaze over the vivacious city he had come to love so dearly as he stepped toward the edge of the railing, leaning over ever so slightly.

The wind stirred around him, ruffling his already “sexed” hair, as Dean would call it. He threw his legs over the railing and sat, hunched over fifteen floors of city life below him. His shaking hand gripped the railing to keep his balance while the other held the limp flower.

Cas looked up to the sky with a pained expression, blue eyes gleaming in the surprisingly bright starlight. 

_“Jesus Christ, Cas,”_

 _“What is the problem, Dean?”_

 _

“Nothing, it’s just-your **eyes** , Cas.” 

“I thought you liked my eyes.”

“No, I mean yes- but…”

“But what?” 

“They are just so damn bright, it’s just- beautiful.”

_

The wind bit at Cas’ nose and cheeks as he looked to the moon, just as welcoming and bright as Dean had been. Cas smiled at this, feeling he’d finally gone insane but he didn’t care. A goofy smile graced his stubbled face as the moon became Dean’s smile, clear and unwavering in the cloudless night. Each star became every moment he spent and every reason he had loved Dean. The wind became his arms, ever holding him with a soft, forgiving grasp.

Cas brought the buttercup to his numbed nose, sniffing thoughtfully as he inhaled clean air and death. “Smells like you,” He joked dryly, lifting the flower to the sky in a mock gesture for Dean to lean down from Heaven and sniff the bud.

He swore he could almost hear a faint chuckle whistle past his ears with a gust of wind. Cas smiled wider and held the flower close, blocking it from the wind. He swayed precariously as he hummed the only soft song Dean ever sung to him. The song he would only ever sing to Cas. A few mumbled lyrics were slipped into the humming as Castiel looked from the sky to the city lights. “...Picking up the ticket shows…

That’s the history of the trade… 

could right now be coming true..

No one’s gonna fool around with us…

So glad to meet you..

Angeles.” Tears stung Cas’ eyes as he sang the last few chords of the song only sung on rainy days or when money comes late and some meals are missed. He had both hands on the railing, flower crushed against his clammy palm and the frigid metal of the railing. He stood, arms extended from the rail and heavy feet planted on the few inches of cement between the railing and the city below him.

Looking to the sky with a sorrowful face, the wind hushed around his wistful words. “You were my only friend,” his rough voice nearly a whisper. Cas knew they’d be friends from the beginning, ever since Dean walked into Cas’ shitty life and threw in a ridiculous coffee shop romance. 


	4. I Never Knew Just What It Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee, colors, words

Castiel was sitting at his laptop that day, vigorously studying notes he needn’t worry about for at least two weeks. He enjoyed this particular coffee shop because of it’s cheap black coffee and awful flavorings which kept the pestering crowds away. No one came there save Cas and a few working adults who didn’t have time to stray from the route of their workplace for a good cup of coffee. Castiel did not mind the peace one bit.

He also didn’t notice there was a man sitting across from him until he heard someone clear their throat from a startlingly close distance. Cas looked up from his notes, alarmed and wondering if he was in someone’s way. Across from him was a man about his age, with dirty blond hair, green eyes that make emeralds seem dull in comparison, the most confident smile in the world. Also, if you looked closely, a light sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks (not that Cas was looking). Castiel was frozen in his seat, one: because he was in awe of the gentleman’s astounding appearance, and two: out of sheer social retardation.

He smiled at him for a second, eyes scanning over Cas’ face very obviously for who knows how long, causing Cas to blush like a thirteen year old girl. “What is your favorite color?” 

“What?” Cas was dumbfounded. This pretty man came over to him to receive the knowledge of Cas’ preferred color. And Cas was the awkward one. He hardly had time to relish in the whiskey-soaked gravel that was the man’s voice before he responded.

“Oh, right, I’m sorry. Hi, I’m Dean. What’s your favorite color?” Dean, was his name. Cas had an awful suspicion that this scenario was far too to enchanting to be genuine, especially for someone such as Castiel. 

“Are you playing some sort of trick on me?”

Dean looked confused, and laughter glinted in his eyes as if he thought Cas was joking. The humor died when he saw the seriousness in Castiel’s face. 

“What? No, no. I was just wondering.” Cas certainly was not convinced.

“Who paid you? Did they offer you money or are you being forced unto this?” Castiel was genuinely scared now as his imagination took hold. He didn’t want the poor man to be forced to speak to Cas against his will. 

“No one is paying me, and I’m not being forced to talk to you. Just, calm down. What is your name?” Dean tried, smiling. The hot college kid with the amazingly-sexed hair in front of him was truly serious and he’d thought the only person who would talk to him would do it for money, or against his will. _Damn, what happened to him?_

“Castiel,” Cas responded with a relieved smile. “And green.” Cas had no idea what his favorite color was for he had never thought about it. Looking into Dean’s eyes, though, he made his mind up quickly.

They talked in that shop for hours, continuously ordering coffee so they wouldn’t be kicked out. Cas learned that Dean had a younger brother and was an orphan. He had moved here recently and was looking for a friend because he didn’t want to be lonely in such a big city, something he wasn’t used to because of his brother always travelling with him.

Dean learned Castiel had many brothers and a sister, grew up in a very religious household (much to Cas’ dismay), and didn’t have a lot of friends (understatement). Cas lived in the city ever since he started college and planned to live there awhile, maybe get in contact with family on the holidays, if they don’t end up killing each other first.

The two grew closer, and over time, began dating. They were both small to the world, nobody caring about them except Dean’s brother, whom Dean frequently made calls to.


	5. Where the Woods Would Wear The Wafting Sound Of Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell, depression, letter

“I could never repay you for that,” Cas smiled into his words. Old memories washed over him as he clung to the railing, leaning over the ledge. He brings the buttercup into view, other hand gripping tighter on the railing. He glances at the shrivelled bloom in his hand. “ _You_ saved _me_ , Dean Winchester.”

_“Castiel, is it okay if I just call you Cas? I don’t think I could go my entire life saying that mouthful of a name.”_

 _“I don’t think you’ll go your entire life speaking my name, Dean.”_

 _

“Why the hell not?”

“I don’t think you intend on being in a relationship with me your entire life… Do you?”

“Hell yeah. I think I’d go crazy without you, being you’re the one who saved me.”

“Dean I don’t remember saving you from anything…”

“Cas, you saved me from living an eternity in Hell.”

“Hell? I don’t think this place is that bad, you could have gone along without me.”

“No, I couldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

“Because living without your soulmate is living in Hell.”

_

***

It was. 

Castiel was devastated. Dean’s death had shoved him into a state of utter denial that lasted months. Denial that kept Castiel up waiting by the door night after night, only breaking to slip into unconsciousness curled up on the floor, still waiting. He would wake, supposing Dean had slipped in during the night and left before Cas woke, for he didn’t want to disturb his sleep. Cas wished he would. 

The flower of their last Valentine’s Day stayed in the cup, withering like Cas’ hope of Dean ever coming back. He had continued like this, nobody noticing the five o’clock shadow growing darker under his eyes or how frail he had become. Nobody cared. Nobody except Dean had even bothered.

The night Cas had finally broke the dam of rebuttal that began to crumble under the weight of his emotions was a few months after Dean’s accident. That night, Cas had been going through Dean’s belongings to find an old music tape to listen to. Right when he opened Dean’s closet, he found a folded note sitting on top of a shoebox. He would have ignored it, for the sake of Dean’s privacy. He didn’t want him to come home to find his things askew, but it said “For: Cas”. Unfolding it slowly, he peered at the writing.


	6. I've Got Another Confession To Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets, mercy, anger

_Cas, if you are reading this, and I sure as hell hope you do at some point, I want you to know that I love you, first of all. I’m sorry I haven’t said it enough. I’m not the kind of guy to go all touchy-feely with relationships, but you already knew that. You somehow managed to get every detail of my life out of my mouth and store it somewhere in that beautiful little mind of yours. Hell, I walked into that coffee shop to learn all about YOUR life. That reminds me, I wanted to tell you that I walked into that place because I saw you (somehow) sitting in the corner all hunched over and, well, adorable. You seemed stressed, like you’d never had a good time in your life (before me, of course)._

 _And yes I know, I’m just a cowardly dick, writing my feelings like this but I don’t care. I did mean it when I said you saved me, though. You know by now I’d never loved anyone like I love you. And Cas, I’m so sorry you had to deal with me. The depression, the alcohol, etc. I was a mess, and couldn’t bear to drag you down. I knew you would never let me go, just keep holding on to the hope of me changing. Hope. That’s what I loved about you, Cas. Hold onto that spark. Use it, Cas. You have so much more potential without me getting in the way._

 _

I know we didn’t have the perfect relationship, and we both did our best to make it work. I’ll cherish the little things forever, sometimes the small stuff means the most, you know? Anyway, I couldn’t stand to see how stressed you’d become, Cas. And all because of me. I’m a selfish bastard for saying, but I would’ve walked into that coffee shop again just to spend the last three years of my life with you.

I made it quick, though. Just for you. No alcohol (well maybe some to get that kick-start), no cuts or mess you’d have to clean. I made it easier, and I’m only telling you this because I’m giving you a second chance. You don’t have to live with me and my problems always dragging you down. You have so much potential, you just have to use it. Go out and travel, fall in love again, go experience. I do love you, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. But you have to let me go.

-Dean

(P.S. They named you right, you know. Even though you tell me I’m wrong, you are an angel.)

_

Cas looked up from the letter, in complete and utter shock. Tears were slipping down his thin cheeks and his mind was unable to function correctly. The police had told him it was an accident. They said he crashed and was killed instantly, without suffering. _But there was suffering._ Castiel threw the letter, and tore through the apartment as he roared in frustration and bitter contritement.

He felt hatred toward the policemen. They were the ones who barged into the apartment, and lied to Cas’ face about Dean’s death.

Exasperated at the world for letting this happen. 

Angry at the God he had been forced into believing, who was now dead to him.

Irritated at Dean for his foolishness. And finally, enraged at himself for Dean’s death. Dean was the best damn thing that had ever happened to Castiel. Now what was he going to do? Cas threw furniture, and howled louder when he found there was no alcohol in the apartment. 

This behavior went on for nine more months. Castiel worked furiously, never pausing his schoolwork, refusing every emotion except hatred for himself. He didn’t deserve what he’d gotten, and Cas would be damned if he was gonna let sleep get in the way of finally earning something for once in his pitiful life. He saw his existence as worthless without Dean, it was him who caused Dean’s death. 

Castiel cried himself to sleep each night beside a bottle of whiskey. Hangovers fogged his mind, only making him worse in school, which only made him angrier. Each night he stayed up, drinking, and looking over notes as tears slid down his face. He would’ve done drugs but he didn’t have the money, or the idea that he even deserved the contentment the high would offer. He stayed angry, like an ongoing engine, churning fervently and resisting exhaustion to the point of near-explosion. But all fury had vanished when he had held the wedding photo in his hands.


	7. Let It Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace, gloves, pictures

Now he stood, leaning over the city, getting increasingly dizzy as he watched cars whiz past. Cas remembered the resentment, the useless agony. He knew it earned him nothing. He understood what Dean wanted, and that he couldn’t change the past or bring Dean back. Castiel extended the flower in his hand. He closed his eyes and let the last dying ember of remorse slip through his callused fingers. “Time to let go,” he whispered. All of the aching torment left his system, only leaving the potential Dean had been so fond of. Pain, agony, repentance, depression. Gone with a slip of a wrist. Cas was tired of feeling this way. He wanted to move on. Dean was gone, and nothing could be done. Grieving over him was never a good way to celebrate his existence, anyway. Dean’s presence seemed to slip away with the flower, and he was alone again. 

So he climbed from the railing, and went back inside to collect and store the last of Dean’s things.

Cas slipped into the apartment with a small flame of hope burning inside of him. What hadn’t been broken by earlier drunken rampages, he began to collect and put into boxes to either store or sell. The most precious items were too valuable to Cas to part with. Cas gathered these and a large box to sit on his knees and look, feel and recollect the memories they held. 

A stuffed knitted cat was the first in the box. It was about the size of a real cat, with black button eyes and yellow wool “fur”. Dean presented it to him one day after work, promising a real one when they got enough money and were able to leave the city and start over.

A light blue stone coaster that reminded Castiel of winter was next. Cas had been bought this for the sole reason Dean could joke, _“It’s solid and useful, just like you!”_ which encouraged a mumbled, sheepish, _“Shut up, Dean.”_ and short laughter.

Up next were silly, rainbow-striped gloves that really emphasize Cas’ sexual preference, not on purpose, of course. They had been purchased late one night by a distraught Dean, who, seconds before, was told about a condition in Cas’ hands that caused them to be sensitive to the cold; causing shaky numbness, a piercing throb, and a feeling of eternal ice embedded in the tendons of his fingers and wrists. Cas was pretty bummed about it. Dean never shared why he’d left, which meant they were both worried sick when Dean returned, and Cas just about laughed in relief when Dean returned with the gloves.

Pictures of them went in the box, too. There were very few, some taken of Cas, some of Dean. All were at a beach. They could only afford to go once, for a few days. There was only one of them together, though. Dean had snapped it during a stolen kiss, while Castiel wasn’t looking. 

These were only the material objects that had been close to Cas’ heart. He had bought Dean things, too, just none of which were very important, at least not to Cas. Dean had loved everything he’d received, which was not a lot, given how much money they had together. Dean bought a lot of unnecessary objects, despite their current financial position, just because he knew they made Castiel smile that rare smile only Dean knew and loved with all his heart, but he would never admit it to anyone except Cas. 

Dean’s clothes and the music Cas didn’t want to keep were put in a different box to be taken to the pawnshop the next day. He finally felt peace, for the first time a long time. He thought Dean was the only one who brought him tranquility. He had, for the most part, stirred the feeling. Castiel thought he needed someone to make him feel loved when all he needed was himself. Dean had taught him that, with every kind gesture and compliment, he only encouraged Cas’ self-respect. All Dean wanted was for Cas to see how beautiful he was, how his imperfections defined that.


	8. I Don't Know Why You Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whiskey, goodbye, suicide

What Castiel didn't know was that it had been Dean’s plan all along. He walked into that coffee shop, ready to sacrifice himself just so an obviously troubled person huddled over his laptop could find happiness. The idea of suicide solving the problem seemed far-fetched, what if Cas had ended up killing himself, too? But he wouldn’t. 

Dean knew that. 

He knew that, like Cas, a person who truly hated himself would choose to drown in the suffering life offered, because he wouldn’t think he deserved the luxury death granted: release. Dean knew the look of pure self-hatred, before he even met Cas. 

That was why _Castiel was alive_ when Dean met him. That’s why _Dean was alive_ and walking into that coffee shop. 

As soon as he looked into Cas’ stunning blue eyes that day, he knew he’d do anything to make Castiel believe in himself, because he loved Cas too much to see him punish himself like Dean had. He knew that he wouldn’t hate himself as comprehensively if he could make life worth living forthe blue eyed boy and end all sufferage.

Every month they spent together, scraping for money, Cas fell deeper into his depressed state. His love for Dean was untainted, but his self-loathing had been an obstacle that hurt himself most of all. 

Every day gone by, more whiskey had been drunk by Dean. He saw Castiel fading, and had drunk himself to sleep each night as he saw his angel’s aversion progress. No amount of gifts or compliments or endearment could cure Castiel of his depression, so Dean sank deeper into his drinking as he realised what must be done. 

The couple didn’t realize they were doomed from the start. Castiel became increasingly miserable with every drink Dean took. He knew Dean was lying when he told Cas it wasn’t because of him. He thought himself unworthy of Dean’s affection, because of all of the hurt he caused Dean which led him to drinking. Each day they were inflicted by the sorrow of the other, each day they sunk into deeper melancholia. They found themselves unable to help, only torment themselves with the failure of their love.

Dean had written the letter a month before he actually went through with it. Whiskey couldn’t be purchased, for he was saving that money for when Castiel would be on his own. It nearly killed Dean to go cold turkey, but he held up, for Cas. He had thought Dean had stopped drinking, that things were looking up for them. The house on the beach they both dreamed about seemed in reach, and Cas became hopeful. 

Dean tried as hard as he could that month to pull Castiel out of his bottomless pit of woes. He whispered sweet nothings and danced with Cas, twirling him and telling him how he would do anything for him, and love him forever. Dean was desperate, not for his sake, but so he could ensure Cas’ happiness, and spend more than the last few weeks with him. 

The last week Dean gave empty promises, which broke his heart to say. The little house on the beach was a beautiful dream Dean kept romanticising with falsehood and fantasy. Dean knew it was a selfish thing to do, and he was only doing it so he could see Castiel’s sweet smile during his last week. 

The last day the note was folded and set with care in the closet. Dean had the day off, and he told Cas that he was going to visit his old friend, Bobby, and come straight home. He thought Castiel looked so serene that morning, despite being pulled from bed. He wore Cas’ favorite apron to make him laugh, and repeatedly turned his head to see Cas’ beautiful face a couple more times. He kept shuffling the spatula nervously in the pan. He did go visit Bobby, and make a call to Sam, but Dean didn’t come home. 

Whiskey was bought with what little money he saved over the month for himself, and his car had crashed offroad, into an empty, abandoned building with unusual precision. The policemen kept that detail from Cas, for they saw the look in his eyes when they told him his husband was dead.


	9. What A Wonderful World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puppy-Eyed Epilogue

Cas wished he could tell Dean he loved him one last time, and make up for everything. He wished he could have fixed Dean. All Cas could do was try again. And try he will.

The day after packing up Dean’s old items, on the way home from the pawnshop, Cas passed by the old coffee house he had been avoiding all year. He stopped and stared into the familiar place, at the small scatter of tired adults everywhere. He wondered how this place hadn’t gone out of business yet. 

As Cas looked, he saw someone in his old seat. Something about the stressed boy that sat there, folded over his laptop, guzzling coffee like his life depended on it, seemed familiar. Instinctively, Cas opened the door and walked over. 

It was funny how the boy didn’t notice Cas’ presence across from him when he sat. He smiled and looked at his floppy hair and hazel eyes. He looked like he was in college, and quite tall. Cas wondered what a man of his age was doing alone on Valentine’s Day.

Maybe it had to do with the look on his face.

Damn, that kid looked like someone ran over his puppy.

“Ahem,” 

The kid looked up, a bit surprised and confused at Cas’ presence. “Oh-hi,”

“Hello.” The kid was tense, as if an alien decided to sit with him. Shy too, since he was obviously blushing. It was noticable, even through his tan. _Damn, what happened to him?_

Cas saw an awful pain in the boy’s eyes, and he felt a strong instinct to protect him from whatever had hurt him. Castiel smiled in admiration for the hushed kid in front of him, and asked the first question that came to mind, surprisingly calmer than expected. “What’s your favorite color?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any songs, shows, etc. Feedback is my happy pill and I hope you enjoyed the fic and such! You might see it in a year or so because I edit my stories a lot


End file.
